


Retreat

by viceversa



Category: The X-Files
Genre: And it's snowing, Angst, F/M, Grown-Ups Bullying Each Other, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Cancer Arc (X-Files), Romance, There's a cabin, a bit of a slow burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-10
Updated: 2019-01-21
Packaged: 2019-10-07 23:44:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17375426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/viceversa/pseuds/viceversa
Summary: After the cure was found for her cancer, Mulder and Scully's friendship seems to be crumbling--they can't even talk to each other like they used to. An agent, a string of emails, and a remote cabin in the mountains help them reconnect in ways they hadn't before.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi all! This is the most self-indulgent, ooc, drama-filled thing I’ve written for this fandom, and it’s not even that wild. Not betaed. Also, this story is finished and I'll be posting chapters every few days :D  
> Canon-divergent post cancer-arc. Only the best tropes ahead. Basically, it’s fun! Don’t say I didn’t warn ya!  
> A quick thank you to @scully-eats-sushi for researching skinner’s assistant’s name so thoroughly! Who knew it was so complicated, haha.

 

_Monday_

Scully walked through the hall, leaving Skinner’s office from a quick meeting about Mulder’s poor penmanship. The meeting was actually the final progress report on Scully being back at work post-cancer, but it quickly devolved the less Skinner could make out on Mulder’s report.

Scully, now fully cleared from more meetings to check up on her, was also tasked with making sure Mulder would type his reports from now on. Honestly, she was dreading the conversation. They weren’t talking like they used to before her cancer, and she wondered where their easy friendship had gone.

Just before she reached the elevator, someone called her name.

“Agent Scully! Do you have a second?”

Wanting to delay the inevitable computer versus pen fight with Mulder, she turned and found an unfamiliar agent off to her left beckoning her with a hand. Bracing herself for more well wishes from strangers, she approached him.

“Agent Scully, hi. You may not know me—I’m Adam. Adam Danaffy. Of Major Crimes. I was just transferred to D.C. a few weeks ago.”

Scully shook his proffered hand and crossed her arms, getting down to business. “Welcome. What can I do for you, Agent Danaffy?”

“Well, like I said,” he began in an obvious southern accent, “I’ve only been here a few weeks. But I’ve heard some, uh, rumors, and I was wonderin’ if you could sort them out. Someone pointed you out to me a few days ago—is it true you work in a two-person department? How is that happenin’?”  
Scully sighed, but read his question as genuine honesty. At least he wasn’t asking about her ‘miracle cure’ from cancer. She’d had enough of that in the last weeks to last her forever.

“Yes, I do. My partner and I run the X-Files. It’s very efficient.”

Just as Danaffy opened his mouth for another question, another agent popped up from the cubicles nearby.

“Danaffy! There you are! I thought you were lost again—and Agent Scully, hello. Nice to see you out of that dark basement and in the light.”

Scully nodded at the new person, suddenly wanting to escape to that specific basement, dark as is. Maybe she was becoming antisocial down there. This new agent looked vaguely familiar, but she couldn’t quite place him.

“I was just askin’ about them X-Files in the basement. Big mystery, and all that,” supplied Danaffy.

“Oh, yes, the Legend of the Spookys. Sorry, Agent Scully, we might’ve been informing the new guy about your little exploits down there the last few days.”

“Exploits?” Scully’s dangerous, raised eyebrow went unnoticed. 

“Well, maybe not _your_ exploits, per se,” said the agent, slapping Danaffy’s back hard as he spoke. “But Mr. Spook’s general, well, you know. He’s crazy.”

Scully’s mouth dropped open. “He’s crazy? Excuse me, agent, but I don’t believe that’s entirely appro—"

“What’s any other word for it? I’m sad to say, honestly, Agent Scully, but you’re probably too close to the epicenter to recognize the widespread impact of his destruction up here, where we get the real work done.”

Scully was pissed, but recognized that this idiot was trying to provoke her so she settled and spoke calmly.

“Agent Mulder and I do excellent work in our department, and I stand by our case results,” she started, emphasizing the use of ‘our.’ “You and the other agents may be misinformed of what exactly we do, but I promise you that it’s not worthless.”

“Whoa, whoa, I wasn’t saying that! I’m just concerned for his capacity to, well, function! He’s not exactly a shining beacon of mental health and stability, ranting about aliens and ghosts. It’s not exactly standard recruitment material for the bureau.”

Scully ran through what Mulder could’ve said so publicly to attract this kind of opinion, and honestly most cases they worked joint with Major Crimes weren’t exactly normal. Or any case that got media attention. And, honestly, Mulder wasn’t exactly stable. But he wasn’t an insane monster like what this guy was ranting about. Scully would call him sensitive.

Danaffy tried to interject, “Now, whadda mean by that?” but it went unnoticed. Scully and the nameless agent were facing off, head to head, but Scully paused.

She knew she couldn’t just deny everything he said. Mulder does publicly talk about aliens and ghosts. The story of his sister is practically common knowledge in the bureau, thanks to a leak of information, and they were both known for the more bizarre cases and testimonies. A flat-out denial would cost more, and would be untruthful.

So she aimed somewhere for the middle ground, wishing she had gone straight to the basement instead of talking to Danaffy in the first place. Diffuse the situation, win the argument, and escape. In a dangerous, quiet voice, she put the matter to rest.

“Maybe you’re right about that, agent, but the bureau doesn’t recruit agents as good as Mulder _and I_ every day. We have had more solves, _on bureau-labeled unsolvable cases mind you_ , than any department on average, particularly Major Crimes. Our methods may be extreme, but we get the job done.” She turned to Danaffy, taking in his shocked look with a glance. “Nice to meet you.”

Scully turned on her heel and left for the basement. She didn't have time for this kind of childish bullying, and besides, defending the X-Files and Mulder was easy. She believed in them, in their work. She just wished they could talk to each other again, like the best friends they were. She couldn't help but wonder if her being sick had soured things, had made her less strong and capable in his eyes. To imagine what she had looked like, had acted like in front of him in what she thought were her final days. She shuddered at the thought. Nothing said strong, attractive woman like being to weak to sit up when she puked.

They just had to work through this on their own, she thought. Get used to the idea that she'd be around longer, that she wasn't going to die any minute now even though she still felt echoes of that dread in her psyche. A fleeting panic, and then a surge of hopelessness, then surprise again as she reminded herself she wasn't actively dying anymore. 

Until then, she could barely stand being in the same room with Mulder sometimes. She knew she was avoiding him, but she couldn't just pretend like they hadn't gone through that trauma. Other things she could push past, but this was hanging onto her like a second skin. Everything she did around him, every time she tried to talk to him, she only saw the pity and guilt in his eyes from when he'd visited her in the hospital at her worst. 

They needed time to sort out their demons, and then everything would be okay. She hoped. 

-

_Wednesday_

Mulder was alone in the basement, procrastinating his files by going through his email. There was a lot of it. Scully had left a few hours before, exhausted from the paperwork and hassle of last week’s case. Mulder didn’t blame her—these last few cases were less than fun for either of them. Not ideal for Scully’s comeback cases.

Mulder felt that there was something still off with her since she’d been back. She had taken enough time to recover and build up her strength after the chip saved her, and now she’d been back just a few weeks. But it was different. They didn’t quite click like they used to. There was only half-hearted banter, and try as he might, Scully hadn’t smiled more than twice in the last three weeks combined.

Mulder supposed that the trauma of slowly dying only to be saved at the last minute was enough to mess up anyone, and tried to wait it out and be there for her when he could. But she wasn’t letting him in. He just wanted to be there for her again, like before. Or even more so as he'd always wanted. Maybe it was time for a change, he hoped, for the better. They couldn't continue on like this, just not talking to each other. It had to go one way or the other, get worse or better. But he was getting tired of waiting around. 

His eyes focused and unfocused on the computer in front of him, a lack of sleep making his attention even worse that usual. His concentration had been shot, between the relief that Scully was still alive and the absolute shit of the past few weeks, it was like he was standing on shaky ground. He was exhausted.

And on top of all of that, the usual round of agents a few floors up decided it was high time to once again make his life a living hell. Can’t he catch a break? If it wasn’t raining, it was pouring and he could barely breath under the onslaught.

Each time he’d been in the building above ground, some snide comment would come his way. Sometimes it was direct confrontations. But it was all stuff he’d heard before. He’d suffer through anything to pay for the fact that Scully was once again healthy and alive.

Until they started in on Scully.

No one knew, and no one reported it, but he’d come a hair’s breadth away from blows just the week before after an agent implied that his Scully had _faked her cancer_. Instead, Mulder took the first case to cross his desk and had them out chasing their tails for half a week, only compounding the bleak mood of the basement.

This week had only been worse. Scully barely talked to him, retreating at 5pm on the dot each day with today being no different. There had to be a turning point, something that made it all normal again, but the end wasn’t in sight.

Email. He could at least lean at being productive and clean out his email. Mulder scrolled and sorted, opening the odd consult request here and there. A subject line caught his attention, the subject reading _Watch Out for your Partner!_ Instantly on edge, he opened it.

He immediately breathed again, it wasn’t a threat, it was another taunt. An agent, Jeff Currer, had emailed him. Mulder had run into this guy before—he was one of the more outspoken against the X-Files. Mulder had his suspicions that Currer was the one who unearthed his personnel file and spread the more sensitive information around a few years ago. It didn’t make his life easy when the rumors got going again. Even with decades of experiences dealing with other people not liking him, it still hurt to be around. What was it this time? If they’re targeting Scully again, he’ll flip for real.

_Hey Spook!_

Okay, not off to a great start.

_Look what I have—or more, listen! Your little partner is finally fed up with your dangerous nonsense. We had a great convo just today, and she and I got real up close and personal. I happened to be testing a new recording device too, lucky for you! Looks like your joke of a department is on its last legs. Listen and weep, then pack your desk. As soon as she quits, it’s over for you._

Encoded and attached was an audio file that Mulder hesitated to click. Was this some stupid prank? Or was this something much worse—proof of Mulder’s second worst fear, that Scully would leave him?

He clicked on it, waited for it to load, and room filled with erratic static and speech. He turned up the volume until he could make it out.

It was Scully’s voice, mid-conversation with Currer.

_“You and the other agents may be misinformed of what exactly we do, but I promise you that it’s not worthless.”_

A man replied. Currer.

_“Yeah, but that doesn’t make him normal enough to work here. Some of the boys up here and I are thinking about starting a petition. Get rid of his X-Files, and him – they’re doing nothing but wasting money and making the FBI a joke. Besides, you’d be off the hook and out of the basement in no time.”_

A beat of silence.

_“Maybe you’re right,” replies Scully softly. “He’s craz—”_

Mulder shut off the recording, not wanting to hear more, wishing he’d deleted the email immediately and blocked the sender somehow. It was Scully, alright, and it sounded bad, but it could’ve been doctored. Or faked, somehow. Right? She wouldn’t just say that.

Right?

The email wasn’t over. What followed was a chain email with a dozen replies, all worse than the next. They’d planned to harass him and Scully, destroy the X-Files, and discredit everything they’d ever done. This was a hell of a lot more pointed and organized than simple adult playground bullying.

Mulder shut down the computer and went home, shattered from the ordeal of existing in that building any longer. He wasn’t getting any work done anyway. This was the last straw that broke his resolve. Scully's cancer had almost killed him, then it felt like she hadn't really come back to him. His job had always been his escape, and he couldn't even do that without an onslaught of bullshit right now. He had to get out, get away, for at least a little while. Maybe when he got back things would be better. 


	2. Chapter 2

_Thursday_

Scully hated the bureau sometimes, and for all sorts of reasons that she couldn’t control. It was a macho male dominated workplace. The hours were insane. The respect was minimal, as a woman and as an agent of the X-Files. The patriarchy, at times, overwhelming. The pay wasn’t that good. The list could go on and on, but when it was “us versus them”, the X-Files versus every other department and agent in the business: that was when it was the worst.

Aside from the department getting shut down and the odd loose alien, that is.

A few times each year she’d worked on the X Files with Mulder, Scully noticed a spike in animosity toward the unit and a mood shift down in Mulder, triggering one in her as well. He hid it fairly well, or so he thought. It didn’t take her long to catch on to his moods even at the beginning. Scully thought that he was used to it – his upbringing hardly inspired warm fuzzy feelings and from what she’d gathered, his past close colleagues either hated him or manipulated him. Except for her. And maybe Skinner, but as a boss it’s not like Skinner was there just to be Mulder’s friend.

It was happening again, the taunting and alienation from the bureau, and with horrible timing. She noticed on Monday, with the confrontation with that awful agent upstairs, but looking back she realized that it had probably going on for a while, maybe since she was sick.

Not that there’s a good time for everyone you work around to suddenly be nasty to you and your partner, but they had just had a shitty few weeks. Few months, really, but ever since she had come back to the basement fully healed, things hadn’t been going right. Cases went unsolved, ghosts were all hoaxes, and they’d been clashing more than usual. Scully was frustrated at everything, really, and it wasn’t his fault. But he just got so…infuriating sometimes and she needed to take a step back. All the emotions she was feeling and struggling with were piling on each other to an overwhelming degree, and she needed to distance herself before she snapped and either hit him or jumped him.

These days she didn’t know which she wanted to do more. Their relationship was suffering from work stress, from personal stress, and with this rising tension in the bureau itself, it was becoming unbearable.

It all tied back to the cancer, she believed. Seeing his partner and friend suffer at the hands of terminal cancer, only to be pulled back from death at the last second—it would put strain on any relationship. It should’ve been easy—she’d been healed, he’d been cleared, boom back to normal. But it wasn’t even close.

They’d barely spoken for the whole week, just like the previous weeks, since they got back from the case last Sunday. They didn’t talk much on the case either.

There was hardly anything in Mulder’s life that the rumor pool of the FBI hadn’t already gotten to. His sister, his bad childhood, his supposedly rich and privileged upbringing on the coast and at Oxford, his mental breakdowns when profiling. All were practically urban legend fodder after nearly ten years of him working for the bureau. Something was recirculating, and it was fueling the new burst of bullshit they had to deal with. She just had to find out what it was. Maybe solving that could help them heal too.

They rarely went after Scully specifically. There were some things she had heard circulating, relating to her abduction so many years ago, and also her more recent struggle with cancer. The reasons had been nasty, of course. That she did it for attention, or to have a secret love child away from the bureau, or to cover up drug addiction. Mulder had gone ballistic when he found out both times, but Scully had managed to contain his reaction to just reporting it to the higher ups each time, or saying she did and ignoring it. She could fight her own battles, battles actually worth being fought.

Most times, with Mulder being targeted, he would shut her out completely, sulk by himself, and come close to blows with any agent who got a little too close to him. She could tell that he believed a lot of what they said about him, and that it got to him most of the time. She was considering bringing up a vacation this time, thinking they both desperately needed the break, but was afraid the suggestion wouldn’t go over well.

Scully felt bad as well, for being so distant with him. After surviving supposedly terminal cancer and getting back on her feet, she was so far in shock and sudden independence that it was hard to let anyone in, even him. Scully had been more than ready for her deathbed confession to him, or at least had come to terms with her feelings, and then suddenly there was no more imminent death.

She’d been left adrift, cured and healthy but completely lost. She rationalized her alone time, needing it so she could learn how to be alive again, but she may have gone too far with her snippy remarks and distancing from her partner. Needing, in part, to feel like the strong woman she used to be before rejoining Mulder at his side more completely.

Maybe it was because she just didn’t know how to talk to him anymore, not after what they both went through while she was sick. Maybe he didn’t know how to act around her. She resolved to change that as she drove to work that morning. They could survive anything, but they had to work together.

-

Scully spent the morning working up the courage to talk to Mulder, really talk to him, to rebuild bridges that had been neglected for too long. But her resolve was mixed with worry because he wasn’t at work when she arrived, nor did he show for the next few hours.

This wasn’t entirely unheard-of for Mulder. He’d slept in here and there, and had gone off chasing leads without her innumerable times. But this week they’d both been chained to their desks, filling out dismal paperwork on their last three back to back hoax-filled and failure ridden cases. She finished up the rest of it, and even edited Mulder’s digital reports to take her mind off of his absence and their impending hard conversation.

Scully decided to give it until lunch before she really worried, but just at eleven she received an email from Mulder. Actually, she was only CC’ed in the email, it was actually just addressed to Skinner.

Mulder was taking personal leave, effective immediately, through the next week.

_Come on Mulder,_ she thought. _Don’t run. We can get through this._ He never, ever took leave like this. He even fought her on medical leave when he was injured! This was all more serious than she’d realized. She didn’t have to convince him to take a vacation after all, but she had a hunch that the one he planned wouldn’t help things at all.

Alone in the office, and finished with the paperwork, Scully sent up the completed files to Skinner and tried to fill the rest of her day knowing that she couldn’t take on any cases without him. She waffled between tasks, tidying her area, getting the trash away from Mulder’s desk, filing. The office soon looked unusually clean, so she moved to a digital cleaning.

Forty-six unread emails. The first was from Skinner, enquiring about Mulder’s sudden leave. She didn’t know how to respond just yet so she moved on.

She quickly sorted through the spam without even opening it, leaving her with two reminders of upcoming meetings, an invitation to an after-work get together she would eventually turn down, and one email chain that she had recently been forwarded.

Usually, Scully was smart enough to simply delete email chains as they were usually long weird jokes or spam of some sort, but the subject line of this one caught her attention:

_Fwd: Fwd: Fwd: Spooky’s Dirty Little Basement Secret._

That could only mean one thing. She’d not only found another source of Mulder’s bad mood, but had been formally included in it at 9:42 that morning. Lovely.  
Part of her wanted to delete it and never think of it again, but she knew she had to open it to see what was going on. A short message began at the top—it was from Skinner’s assistant, Arlene.

_Dear Agent Scully,_

_I’m sorry to be the one to forward this awful mess to you, but another assistant forwarded it to me and I think you should know about the contents before I report it to AD Skinner. I’m sure he’ll want to bring it up with you as soon as he writes up the agents involved. And I thought you might want to tell Agent Mulder as well._

_Please let me know._

_All the best, and sorry again, Arlene_

Scully sighed, not particularly wanting to read the contents but knowing she had to. This discourse was akin to high school bullying—the boys club of the bureau no more mature than when they’d been teenagers. It was exasperating.

There were several emails in a chain starting from about a week ago, just after they had left for that third case, another one that turned out to be a total hoax.

_From: Jeffry Currer_

_To: FBI pals_

Scully recognized the instigator’s name. Jeff Currer of Major Crimes.

_Hey, heard the new talk about spooky in the basement? Turns out he’s really been making it all up! Just like we’ve thought all these years. Fooling the bureau to get a job and travel and get this, fooling his little partner too! Probably so he can screw her all around the country on the government’s dime._

Scully bristled and got angry immediately, and then something clicked. Currer was the name of the agent that cornered her on Monday. That absolute—how dare they spread these rumors about them! High school bullying was one thing, but these were horrible accusations that could lead to serious consequences and inquiries. And— _Little partner? This little partner has half a mind to track you down and kick your ass._ The blatant sexism and inappropriateness; Scully saw red. But what they were saying about Mulder was just infuriating.

_Liza and I have been doing some investigating ourselves – this shit is practically confirmed. The spookys are just as we thought: total freaks who’ll do anything for attention and money. Big spook has brainwashed the innocent redhead and now she believes anything he says. It’s sad, really. But we shouldn’t pity them._

Jesus! They sure were going for the gut this time. Money? They should see the motels they had to stay in. Attention? _Brainwashing?_ And Liza? The only Liza that Scully knew in Major Crimes was Eliza McPhearson. Come to think of it, Scully remembered that Liza cornered her in a bathroom just before they left last week, trying to ascertain if Mulder was single. Scully had fended off that type before and brushed her off as she had most others, saying something about how it was none of her business.

_Liza even spoke to Mrs. Spooky – she practically gave it all away! She called their last assignment another hoax, another useless trip. No wonder spooky’s been so spooky recently – the mrs. has her panties in a twist!_

There was no way Scully said any of that! Well, she wasn’t exactly in a great mood about going to the last case, or a great mood in general. Maybe it came across slightly off, but still, what they were saying was wrong.

_So I’ve got a plan. Let’s drive them out. Spooky’s obviously kissing someone’s ass in the higher ups, or maybe he’s even in bed with them behind the mrs. back._

_They’re unwelcome here, they’re not doing anything good, and they should feel that way. I’m not saying sabotage their cases, or harass them… except that’s exactly what I’m saying. Let’s not make their lifestyle easy here, and sooner or later the cancer in the basement of the fbi will kill itself, just like it ‘supposedly’ almost killed mrs. spook._

Scully scoffed out loud. _And they thought we were the conspiracy nuts_ , she thought.

Quickly, Scully scrolled through the rest of the chain, seeing more of the same and attributing it to a small group of agents in Major Crimes, some assistants, and seeing quite a few others forwarded in the message as well.

She sat back in shock. This was akin to fiction—grown adults were not supposed to be this petty and mean in real life. Everything they said, about her, about Mulder, was awful and untrue. And it hurt her. And, Jesus, a call to action to harass them? Really?

She looked up, searching for his familiar face immediately before remembering he wasn’t there. A quick glance at the clock informed her that it was almost time to leave anyway.

Still steaming, but becoming more worried about Mulder as she sat, Scully sent a quick email back to Arlene to thank her and sign her support in getting this reported, and then left in a flash.

-

Mulder didn’t bother going to work that morning. He couldn’t stomach it. He was just done. Another second, sitting in the same room as Scully and not speaking, in a building full of people who hated him—it would have driven him crazy. Crazier.

For a week he’d been getting harassed. In the parking garage, in the hall, in the elevator. He wrote it off as normal, not special. Nothing overt in public, of course, but snide, awful comments whispered around him for days on end, in increasing frequency, was enough for anyone to be on edge.

_You think you’re better than the rest of us? We actually do good work. We save people. We don’t entertain the freaks. All you do is dick around and get your little partner hurt._

In one elevator, he stood in front of two agents who were loudly talking about how the X-files were a stain on the bureau before they ‘happened to notice’ he was there.

It was the same old, same old, but when they told him that Scully was participating in it? He was crushed. He didn’t believe it, of course, but then he was sent the audio file. It was Scully. And she wasn’t exactly defending him, or their work.

_Didn’t she shoot you once, Spooky? Just a flesh wound? Too bad her aim was off._

And, really, he tried to talk to her about it. Not about the audio file, she was already gone, but about the rest of it. In the past, they’d made light of the juvenile teasing of the other agents. But every time he attempted to make conversation with her she would brush him off and find an excuse to leave. Scully never avoided him so much before. It could only mean one thing when he got down to it. The cancer, the sickness, it was the last straw and Scully was slowly backing out of her commitments to him, to the truth, to the X-files. They were over.

_I heard she was so desperate to escape the basement she almost killed herself, and that was just a month ago! Oh, Spooky, didn’t see you there._

He didn’t want to think about it, he couldn’t. It hurt too much. Which is why he was home, and why he just finished an email informing Skinner that he was taking at least a week and a half off, effective immediately, pay him or not. Mulder needed time, time away from it all, and obviously so did the idiots at the bureau who found it fun bully him. They wanted him to leave? Well, they’d get their wish for the next week, because he couldn’t bear to step back on federal property for a while.

Everything could cool off with the idiots upstairs, he wouldn’t have to confront Scully, and then it would all be normal—as close to normal as he got—after the break. Maybe she’d leave while he was gone. Maybe she’d change her mind, stay with him. He hoped. It was the one thing he had always been good at.

He sighed, shut down his computer, and began to pack. Where to go? Quonochontaug? No, that would only be more depressing. Maybe the Gunmen had a place that was less _nerd-bunker_ and more _get away_ for a little while.

He called Frohike in one hand and started throwing shirts in a bag with the other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> follow me on tumblr @viceversawrites


	3. Chapter 3

Scully was beginning to get worried. Mulder’s car hadn’t been at his apartment, or at any of his usual haunts. She called his cell, but it was turned off going straight to voicemail, the same as his home phone. 

Scully parked her car after circling his block a few times again, sure he wasn’t home. She’d have to go in soon to check for clues as to where he would’ve gone, but she had another call to make.

“ _Skinner.”_

“Sir, it’s Agent Scully.”

_“Agent Scully. It’s good you called. I have an odd email here. Actually, I have more than one.”  
_

“Is this about the chain that Arlene forwarded to me? I approve of a report being written. What those agents said and did was blatantly unprofessional, and I’m happy to add my own testimony to it.”

_“I am aware of it, yes. But what I’m more concerned about is the email from Agent Mulder. Are you aware why requested some time off? Voluntarily?”_

“I can’t speak to Agent Mulder’s motives as he hasn’t shared them with me, although I wouldn’t exclude those agents involved in that email chain. I’m actually trying to track Mulder down as we speak.”

Skinner let out a long sigh, and Scully could picture him pinching the bridge of his nose.

_“I’ll approve the leave. He obviously needs it. Just, let me know when you find him.”_

“Yes, sir.” Scully almost said goodbye, but an impulse overtook her. What the hell, this is what she was trying to do in the first place. “Actually, sir, do you mind, can I have that amount of time off as well? I don’t mind if it isn’t paid, considering the vacation time I’ve already taken—”

_“Don’t worry about it, Dana. If you both need the time, your department will still be here when you come back.”_

Scully felt like some of the weight on her shoulders had been lifted. “Thank you, sir. I’ll let you know when I find him.”

Skinner said his farewell and Scully wasted no time in running up to Mulder’s apartment. It was already past six in the evening and she wanted to track him down today. After knocking and not expecting anyone to answer, she entered with her key.

Nothing was immediately wrong, but on closer inspection, his wardrobe was partially empty, his shaving kit gone, and the large bag he kept in the closet was missing. Mulder was gone.

A blinking answering machine provided her last bit of evidence.

_“Hey Scully, it’s me. If you’ve bothered to come looking after me, don’t worry about it. I need some time. Away. I’ll see you in a week and a half. If you’re still here.”_

A harsh click ended the message and Scully was left standing in silence. His message was odd, why wouldn’t he just call her? And why wouldn’t she bother looking—and what was with this _if you’re still here_ nonsense, where else would she be?

Scully couldn’t help but feel like she’s missed something. The stupid emails and taunts from the group of agents were annoying, but nothing that would drive Mulder to just leave. She felt at fault, guilty that she hadn’t been there for him when he obviously needed to talk through something.

She hovered in his apartment, moving around, absorbing his absence with her worry. What if something was seriously wrong? Moved to action, she fed the fish and formulated a plan on her way out.

-

Driving south was something Mulder didn’t do often. North was familiar—it was his past, his home. North usually meant strained conversation and bad memories. South was new. He and Scully were so used to flying then driving that it was odd to be on a road trip so immediate, but for this escape, it was necessary.

The Gunmen had been forthcoming in a safe house of sort as soon as he explained the situation. It was located up in the mountains. Langley promised it was fully stocked, Frohike ensured it was remote and secure, and Byers mentioned the beautiful mountain scenery. Isolated and away. It was all he needed. He should be there by sunset, and he would have the whole week alone to figure things out.

Mulder sped up, passing a slow car and not slowing down. The further away from D.C. he was the better he felt. He had no idea how oppressive the atmosphere had been until he escaped it. The months of despair, watching Scully get worse and worse until she was on death’s doorstep, it killed little parts of him, then larger and larger parts. He wanted so much more, for her, for them. In fact, he promised himself that if she made it through, if she survived, he would tell her how he felt. That he was completely, utterly in love with her.

But the time never came.

Sure, Scully got better, but he had to work while she recovered at her mother’s house the weeks after the implant. She regained her strength without him, away from him. Maybe that was part of the problem.

He tried to approach her since she’d been back for real. Once, he made it halfway through an invitation for dinner before Scully interrupted him with a lame question about a report. She’d gotten good at brushing him off, at making excuses and disappearing as soon as they were alone in a room together. The three cases they’d been on, all failures or duds, she’d always insisted on splitting up to investigate. She was avoiding him, and she was good at it.

And now, with this evidence, tampered or not, she’d been talking about him, about their work, behind his back and it didn’t come across well. It was an easy equation to put together. Scully avoiding him _plus_ refusing to talk about it _plus_ that email and the bureaus least-bright getting to him _equals_ complete and utter destruction. And he didn’t want to be anywhere near the office when she left.

Maybe she would take this break as an excuse, her partner leaving for a week with no explanation. Maybe she would just get it over with, submit her transfer request or resignation, pack up her things, surgically remove herself from his life while he was away. He couldn’t watch. He could only prepare to come back to an empty office and an emptier life.

After hours of driving into the mountains, Mulder made the several turns on unmarked roads leading to the cabin. Frohike had been reluctant to actually write down directions to the cabin, lest they fall into the wrong hands, but Byers had slipped him the paper as Frohike turned his back. At least they weren’t written in code—he could barely concentrate on not crashing his car, much less a Frohike code written in chicken scratch.

Soon enough, he pulled into the garage of a surprisingly nice and modern-looking cabin halfway up the side of a mountain. From what he could tell, the closest cabin was over a mile away. He first found the much-needed bathroom, then explored his home for the week.

The design was simple. A wide sitting area next to a fireplace blended into a kitchen area. There were three small bedrooms, one loft area, and a technology command center of sorts in the basement. Mulder wasn’t given the code for that door, and he didn’t really want it either. He just needed a place to be for a little while.

He tossed his bag in the closest bedroom, turned on the electric fireplace, and grabbed a bag of chips and a beer from the kitchen. _Distance will help, distance is good,_ he reminded himself. Mulder unloaded his pockets, turned off his cell phone, and flopped on the big couch facing the wide expanse of trees visible through the floor to ceiling windows.

The silence surrounded him. Aside from the soft whoosh of the fireplace and distant hum of refrigerator, it was quiet. Peaceful. At least, he hoped it would become peaceful soon. He was still trapped in his mind, spiraling anxiously through what could happen in his future. But at this moment, all he could do was eat, drink, and try to heal.  
The sunset was slow and dramatic, and he stared straight through it.

-

Scully pounded loudly on the front door of the Gunmen’s offices. She had tried to call them, but no one was answering, so she had to make the drive across town. The longer she didn’t have any answers, the more worried she was. She had no idea how much of a head start Mulder had, and it was getting dark outside. If Mulder wasn’t in danger, she needed to find him and they still needed to talk and repair their relationship. If Mulder was in danger… she didn’t want to think about it.

She waited for the usual camera noises and several locks clicking, but it didn’t come. Scully knocked again, more aggressively, but was met with silence.

“Come on, guys! I know you’re in there! You never leave!”

A slat on the door opened up, revealing Frohike’s eyes. Scully was exasperated with the theatricality.

“What’s with the door? Let me in I need to talk.”

Frohike squinted at her. “We won’t tell you where Mulder is.”

Scully relaxed marginally. “So you know where he is? Is he safe?”

Frohike’s brows furrowed. “Yes, of course. What’s it to you?”

“What—what’s it to me? _Melvin Frohike let me in!_ ”

“Hey don’t use my real name!” The eyes in the door looked frantically around her, trying to see if any passersby had heard. The street was dead quiet.

“Let. Me. In.” Scully looked dangerous, and Frohike was convinced that she would get inside one way or another, so he shut the slat and let her in.

The three Gunmen surrounded her, all with crossed arms and wary expressions. They formed a ridiculous version of Cerberus, guarding secrets behind trembling resolve. Scully regarded them evenly, wondering what the hell was going on with them. Hands on hips, she stared them down until Byers finally cracked.

“Mulder is safe. We saw him this afternoon. He is at a secure location.”

Scully turned to address Byers, always thinking he was the most level headed of the three.

“Where is he? And why is he there?”

Byers opened his mouth, but Langley beat him to the punch.

“He wanted to get away from you.”

Scully physically took a step back, the comment slicing at her like a knife. “What? Why would he…?”

Langley’s eyes were hard, but Byers and Frohike could see the genuine shock in Scully’s demeanor and took pity on her.

Frohike started. “You, uh, didn’t happen to trash talk the X-Files and Mulder, imply that he was crazy and that you were going to quit the FBI, and been giving him the ice queen treatment for weeks, did you?”

Scully turned her confused expression to Frohike. She supposedly did what now? “What are you talking about? I—we haven’t exactly been talking much, but I would never—”

“Alright,” Byers said, diffusing the standoff with a hand on Scully’s shoulder. “Let’s sit down and talk.”

They relocated to the worn couches in the corner while Frohike explained. Mulder had called them that afternoon, saying that he needed a place to go for a week. His original cover of “a vacation” quickly was revealed to be more personal in nature as soon as he showed up for more details. Mulder spilled the beans about the general aura of unpleasantness at the bureau, and more painfully, what he felt Scully was doing.

“He thinks that I’m leaving him?” Scully sat back on the couch, eyes unseeing. This was the worst-case scenario. She knew exactly how much her involvement in the X-Files, her friendship, means to him, and this would be devastating. “Why?”

“You’ve been avoiding him,” stated Langley, his no-filter bluntness making it hard for her to hear. “You haven’t talked to him in weeks, and he still blames himself for when you were sick. And now, well, man. Now he thinks you blame him too.”

“I don’t. I never did.”

Frohike nodded. “We know, but Mulder sounded convinced. He said something about proof in an email, but took off before we could get the details.”

“Email? I got one too, but it had nothing—oh. Maybe it did.”

“Can you—” Byers asked Langley.

“Already on it.” Langley got up and headed toward the computers behind them.

At Scully’s questioning look, Byers explained. “We’re going to hack into Mulder’s email and see exactly what he saw.”

“You’re just going to hack into an FBI email server? You can’t just—”

“We’re in,” Langley interrupted. “And it’s worse than we thought. Mulder’s had an extra email that Scully’s didn’t have.”

“You hacked into mine too?”

Langley shot her a glance as they approached. “My kung-fu is the best.”

Frohike elbowed him away from the monitor, muttering that his kung-fu was much more refined, and began to read the email.

“It’s from an Agent Currer. _‘Hey Spook! Look what I have—or more, listen! Your little partner is finally fed up with your dangerous nonsense. We had a great convo just today, and she and I got real up close and personal. I happened to be testing a new recording device too, lucky for you! Looks like your joke of a department is on it’s last legs. Listen and weep, then pack your desk. As soon as she quits, it’s over for you.’_ And, attached is an audio file.”

Frohike clicked the file and they all listened to what Mulder considered as proof. The four all bristled with anger on behalf of their friend. Langley’s suspicious eyes were once again aimed to Scully—it was obviously her voice saying these things, but Scully barely noticed, filling with rage again.

“Son of a bitch!”

Byers jumped, and they all turned to her.

“That absolute son of a—he recorded me!” Scully took a deep breath and explained to the guys what had happened. “I did have a conversation with Currer on Monday this week, and that is my voice, but he edited it somehow, making it seem like I was being horrible.”

Frohike was busy scrolling through the chain of emails. “The rest of these aren’t exactly sunshine and rainbows either, but they match what Arlene sent you earlier.” 

Scully straightened up, ready to go find Mulder and put this to rest. “Listen. I know you guys are private about your properties, but I need to get to him and explain what’s going on. Where is he.”

“You can’t go—”

“Tell me where he is.”

“Whoa, calm down Agent Scully,” Frohike said. “You can’t go _tonight_. He’s in our cabin in the mountains—it’s too far to drive right now. You’ll have to wait until morning.”

Scully backed down, taking the path of least resistance to get to Mulder. “Fine.”

“I will get you directions and codes,” said Byers.

Langley turned to her and nodded his apologies for the evening, finally relaxing to her presence. “He’s pretty much off the grid up there. We have a control room in the cabin, but it’s wired so no one can breach it—not even us here. He should have a cell signal, but he told us he was looking for solitude, so I doubt it’s on.”

Frohike stopped Byers from handing over the directions for a second until Scully stared him down. “Don’t lose these, and destroy them when you get there.”

“Fine.” Scully folded up the paper and put it in her inner blazer pocket. “Do us a favor—forward that file to me and then send it to Skinner, he should know about it.”

“I’ll do you one better and we’ll analyze the audio, see where the cuts are and get some proof.”  
Scully nodded her thanks and left for home. She needed to pack. Screw waiting until the morning, she was going to fix this as soon as possible.

On the way to her apartment, her mind was racing. She was pissed, at herself, at Currer. Having been tricked in to talking about the X-Files at all was bad, but then twisting her words to hurt Mulder? Currer was a bastard, and she hoped he was demoted at least, and fired at worst. She’d testify for that trial any day.

Scully spent ten minutes at home, throwing clothes and things into a partially ready go-bag and heading out. She made a thermos of coffee, grabbed a snack, and got to driving.

Common sense told her to stay at her apartment and get rest, but she desperately wanted to go to Mulder. It was starting to get late, she was tired and frustrated, the cabin was four hours away ending in windy mountain roads, and she’d get there after midnight at the earliest.  

Scully wasted no time on the road. She sped as much as she was willing to, and listened intently to music she didn’t like to stay awake. Halfway through the directions she stopped for gas, internally thankful that she’d brought her gun when she went inside to use the restroom among the shifty-looking station workers. She bought a candy bar and diet coke at the counter, and the attendant leered at her.

“Better get home quick, little darlin’, it’s about to get rough out there.”  
Scully barely resisted cringing  at the patronizing tone and went to car quickly, but tuned the radio until she heard a weather report. A system was moving along the mountains, and inches of snow were expected at least. Unconsciously, Scully drove a little faster, not wanting to get caught in the storm. Mulder. She needed to get to him.

The only problem was what she would say to him when she got there.

She couldn’t imagine he would welcome her with open arms, ready to hear her side of the story. She didn’t know what to expect. Mulder could be asleep, drunk, angry, sad, or perfectly okay when she arrived. She’d just have to wing it. She hated not being able to prepare. The only thing she could do now is be completely honest with him. About her feelings. It sounded easy, but god, it would probably be one of the hardest things she’d ever done. Her personality wasn’t cut out for emotional honesty, not even with herself. Maybe the caffeine and exhaustion could help along the process.

Scully cursed herself again—why had she been so distant with him? If she’d only tried to be his friend instead of retreating into her self-indulgent cocoon after her cure, none of this would be happening. Well, some of it would, but she’d be able to laugh off the taunts from upstairs with him instead of being implicated in them.

Scully drove into the darkness, small flakes of ice beginning to hit her windshield, but nothing would deter her from telling him the truth. She only hoped he would believe her.


	4. Chapter 4

It was quiet up here. Quiet, quiet, quiet. No people. Bears, probably. But no rogue FBI agents out to fuck with him or leave him or hurt him. Or love him. As if there’d be that kind anywhere else.

It was not exactly a fun time, but Mulder had little to compare it to.

So, he sat. He watched the sky get dark and the stars appear. He got warm by the fire, and mustered the energy to make a sandwich and polish off those chips. By nightfall, Mulder was well and truly sulking. All that was lacking was his worn leather couch and the glow of a fish tank.

Oh shit, his fish. He’d have to call the guys tomorrow and get them fed. He didn’t need to lose a molly. Not when he was about to lose everything else.

_Maybe it is all worth nothing_ , he thought. He’s just one guy against the world – he used to think it was Scully and him but now it was all up in the air, hovering over him, ready to crash down with a finality he wasn’t ready to face. What if he was, actually, certifiably crazy? Crazy people usually don’t know that they are crazy – he could’ve gone off the deep end years ago and been none the wiser.

_Maybe_ , Mulder thought, _maybe I could leave too. Maybe I should._ It was not a new thought. Leaving the FBI, taking as many files with him as he could, joining forces more completely with the Gunmen, starting his own business. Mulder wasn’t a poor man, and it could work. He could do some good, help people that no one believed in, like Max Fenig. But he’d lose that access, the first-hand interaction, the authority that came with his title as Special Agent. Not that the authority of the X-Files was getting him anywhere in-house.

Maybe it was time. He’d survived years in the basement, and he thought he had it made with Scully. They had a good run, he thought. They’d both brushed death more than once, her more horribly than him. It was astonishing she’d come back at all after what was done to her, the prolonged torture of her cancer.

Mulder sighed and moved longways on the couch, just like home. It was time for her to leave him, before she got even more hurt if that was even possible. He would continue to search for the truth, one way or another, but she would be safer far away from him. He’d done enough damage to her and her family. She’d be better off, he tried to convince himself. Better off, far away.

Mulder stretched out on the couch, not wanting to move to the bedroom just yet. He settled his mind, trying to convince himself that Scully leaving was going to be good for her. And he spared no thought to how it wouldn’t be good for him.

-

Bless Byers’ over-specific directions because once she was off the main highway, navigation was rough, and not just because the snow had started to fall in earnest. The last several streets didn’t have names, or even pavement that she could tell, and Scully’s coffee had run out two hours before.

Luckily, she found the long and winding driveway on the first try, even though it was mostly obscured by forest and snow. Mulder’s car was nowhere in sight, and she had a sudden anxiety that he hadn’t come here at all and had gone somewhere else, but she couldn’t go anywhere else tonight. She was bone tired and wrung out from the rough driving and caffeine.

Scully parked and grabbed her bags, intending to stay as long as needed to sort this out, and needing to stay out of necessity. The snow wasn’t going to stop, and she was in no condition to drive no matter what happened. She pushed through the inches-deep snow in her impractical heels and entered the code for the side door to the garage.

The inside of the cabin was mostly dark, only the glow from the fresh snow outside lighting her path. She sat her things down and toed off her ruined shoes, ready to go through the bedrooms one by one, but then she saw the shadow of his long form draped on the couch.

_Oh, Mulder, even in a cabin full of bedrooms you find a couch to sleep on._

She hesitated, wanting to wake him but realizing he probably needed the sleep. He was as worn down as she felt recently. Instead, she moved to the kitchen side of the large room and quietly started coffee, hoping to have it ready by the time Mulder was awake. _This needed to happen tonight, or it never would_ , she told herself. Plus, it would be awkward to sleep here without him knowing he wasn’t alone.

The percolation began to get loud, so she moved back to Mulder. She was surprised he wasn’t awake yet, he was usually a light sleeper if he got sleep at all. Scully moved an empty chip bag and perched on the coffee table in front of him. 

“Mulder, it’s me.” Scully said quietly. Then, louder, “Mulder, wake up it’s me.”

Mulder stirred and jumped slightly at the figure in front of him until his eyes focused, the fireplace providing minimal lighting. “Scully?”

“Hi, Mulder.”

Mulder sat up and ran his hand across his face. He looked rough, thought Scully. Another pang that she caused his distress went through her.

“Scully, whaddya doin’ here?”

“Do you want some coffee?” Scully asked, avoiding the question. She didn’t wait for a response and went to fill two mugs, quickly finding supplies in the cabinets. She mentally thanked the Gunmen for a well-stocked kitchen.

Distantly she saw him flick on the lamp next to the couch. Mulder was sitting up when she returned, and she was thankful for the barrier of hot coffee between her and the look on Mulder’s face.

He looked like a puppy that was expecting to be kicked, but he accepted the coffee with a nod. Soon that expression morphed into confusion, then just resignation.

Scully sat down on the far end of the couch, sipping the too-hot coffee to stall. She mentally chastised herself _—Enough avoiding! That’s what got you here in the first place!_

Mulder started, his speech monotone, not giving anything away. “Scully, it’s late. Really late. And we’re in the mountains—why did you come here?”

“I wanted to say I’m sorry,” she said, her voice a little raspy from the hot coffee. “And I didn’t want to wait.”

Mulder looked down into his mug, his leg starting to bounce nervously. “What do you have to be sorry for? I know,” he swallowed, “I know you’re leaving. It’s okay. You didn’t have to come all the way here just to say that.”

“No, Mulder, it’s not. I’m,” Scully stumbled over her words. Where to begin? “I’m not sorry for that. I’m sorry for avoiding you the past few weeks. It’s been hard, since the cancer.”

Mulder flinched, but Scully continued on. 

“But that’s no excuse. I’ve been a bad partner, and a worse friend. I took my need for space to heal to the extreme and I pushed you away, and I was wrong to do it.”

Mulder’s head was still hanging but he was quiet, absorbing what she said. He barely believed it. He didn’t think he’d even see her again, and here she was apologizing to him?

Scully moved in closer, shifting the cup to her other hand. She needed him to really hear her, and he wasn’t reacting, so she sat right next to him and placed a hand onto his bouncing knee. He immediately went still, but he didn’t shake her hand away. A hopeful sign.

“I’m also sorry about that email you got.”

“The one with—?”

“I had the Gunmen look into it. They are scary fast at hacking into our emails.”

Mulder cracked a smile at that, finally glancing at her for a second. The atmosphere shifted slightly in the darkened room.

“Mulder, the audio file, it was recorded without my knowledge. I talked to Currer earlier this week and I had no idea. He was saying awful things about us, about you, and in front of a new agent too. That was my voice, but that wasn’t the conversation we had at all.”

Mulder shifted uncomfortably. “What does that mean?” His question was guarded, part of him still expecting to get a letter of resignation at the end of the conversation. 

“It means that Currer is an ass, and that he took my words out of context to mess with you. I don’t know how or really even why, aside from him and his friends having a laugh, but whatever it was I’m still sorry you had to listen to it.” Scully squeezed his knee. “I’m not leaving the X-Files, Mulder. And none of this would’ve happened had I not pushed you away. I’m sorry.”

“You’re not leaving?” The words tumble out of his mouth before he could stop them. “But—”

Scully grabbed his now free hand and tugged it slightly. It was time they talked face to face. “I’m not leaving. And I’m sorry that—”

“You have nothing to apologize for, Scully. I could’ve tried harder, to talk. And to get to the bottom of this.”

“But instead you came all the way out here.” Scully smiled slightly, relieved that the big stuff was likely over. 

“I did. I ran out here into the woods,” he laughed. “I think I just got… very overwhelmed.” Dark rooms in the middle of the night made it easier for Mulder to admit things. Or, maybe it was just time.

“I understand. I think that’s what happened with me too,” she said quietly.

Silence overtook them, but it wasn’t charged with the tension of before. But Scully wondered what to do next. This was her goal, right? To set things straight? She’d come up here in the middle of the night to talk to him and she’d done that, but what else could she say? Was it really so easy, just being honest with him about this? Scully thanked her lucky stars, she thanked God, she thanked the caffeine and pure exhaustion she was running on. Maybe they would be okay, after all. Maybe she could finally tell him—no. She cut the thought off. It wasn’t the time, to just rush back into his life and then maybe upset it all again.

Mulder and Scully sat on the couch peacefully for a few moments, sipping their coffee as the snow blew past the large windows in loud gusts of wind. It was a gentle feeling of rightness, like they were the only two people in the world.

“This—"

“Scully—"

They both started to speak at the same time and stopped, smiling. It felt good, like they were back in sync.

“You first,” said Mulder.

“I was just going to say this is a beautiful cabin. I’m surprised the Gunmen own something so...” she trailed off.

“Clean? Normal?”

“I was going to say nice.” Scully smirked. “As deep into the woods as it is. I’m surprised at the lack of tech. I half expected this place to just be a bunker with wires running everywhere.”

Mulder smiled at that, barely visible in the low light of the table lamp behind him. “I don’t think that description is far off from what’s in the basement.”

Scully smiled at the image. “I just hope this place is up to withstanding a storm. It’s been snowing for hours already, and it’s really piling up outside. I hope you don’t mind me staying here a few days with you.”

“Of course you can stay, as long as you want. But you shouldn’t have come so late. It’s a wonder you didn’t wreck or get lost.” Guilt was evident in his tone and she tried to stop that emotion from sticking. There was enough guilt in their lives to last them, no need adding any more without cause.

“I needed to be here, to see you, so I came.”

Mulder relaxed back into his seat at her admission and they floated back into their silence until Scully realized Milder hadn’t finished his thought from earlier.  

“What were you about to say?”

“Oh, uh. Just, thank you.” Mulder shook his head, lazily gesticulating with his free hand. “That you came up here, that you went to the Gunmen. It’s not often we can talk like this, but it’s just…” He trailed off.

“Just what?”

Mulder sighed, visibly retreating into his head. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking, the last few days. And I’m not convinced that you wouldn’t be better off if you did leave.”

“Mulder,” Scully tried, suddenly feeling the exhaustion of the day creep back into her bones. 

“No, listen Scully.”

Mulder’s voice rose and he stood, pacing on the other side of the coffee table. Scully sat back, watching him move. He was on a roll, she could feel it, and there was nothing to do but listen.

“Think about it. You’ve been with the files for years, and what do you have to show for it?”

_I’ve got you_ , she thought.

He stopped moving and faced her, counting things off with his fingers. “You were abducted, and your sister was killed, and your dog got eaten by a lake monster. You’ve almost died a dozen times, risked your career more than I can count, and then you were given cancer and slowly died,” his voice broke on the word. “Scully I watched you die for months and it was all for nothing. Maybe, maybe it’s time for you to go. Maybe this can be the clean break you need.”

Scully was shocked, and her eyes involuntarily filled with tears, but she was far from speechless. He’d tried to convince her of the same before. She stood as well, squaring her shoulders with his as she rounded the coffee table.

She spoke in a low voice, laced with how serious she was. “Mulder, I won’t have this argument with you again, so consider this the end of it. My final statement on the matter. The last few weeks, hell, the last year has been a mess but I’m not just giving it all up. I’m just as connected to the files as you are. I have fought for the truth side by side with you—”

Mulder wasn’t deterred and interrupted her speech. “You know what, it used to be a search, for the truth, but _goddammit_ if we haven’t had one shred of light in the past five years! All it’s done to you is cause you pain. What could possibly tie you to the files anymore?” Mulder deflated, his argument done, looking at her with eyes so deep she was lost immediately. “You’re free to go, and you should. Have a life, Scully.”

Scully opened her mouth but was bereft of what to say. He was obviously convinced, beyond common sense. That was a frustrating character trait of his. What was keeping her in the basement? Jesus, as if she didn’t already know, as if she didn’t spend most of her day keeping it from him, from her own conscious thought.

“You, Mulder.” She took a step forward, just inches away now having to tilt her head back to see him clearly. Her tone almost a plea, desperate for him to understand. “ _You_ are my biggest investment in this life, in the work, in search of the truth. I stay on the files for my own reasons, and there are plenty. But you’re what’s really keeping me there. I can’t, I can’t just leave you. I choose not to. I won’t.” Scully cut herself off and stood firm in her silence, driving her point home.

Tension of a different kind made noise between them. She was shaking, shaking from exhaustion and from her admission, but she maintained her composure until suddenly, Mulder invaded her space. His body pushed the air from between them and he kissed her, no hesitation, full on the mouth.

Reflex, pure instinct, made her kiss him back immediately, and just as quick she was kissing him by choice. Mulder requested access to her mouth with a slide of his tongue against her lower lip that sent shockwaves through her body, and she granted it readily.

Neither of them planned for this. It was a shock to the system. The feeling of Mulder’s tongue sliding against hers was nirvana. Scully felt like she was floating—finally they were here. After years of near misses and false resolve to confess her feelings; all it took was weeks of silence, a misunderstanding, and tracking him down in the woods in the middle of a snowstorm to connect like this, to seal their lips together, to clear out the air between them. To make room for something new and wonderful.

If her hands were free, Scully would be pinching herself and waiting to wake up from a dream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> follow me on tumblr at viceversawrites !


	5. Chapter 5

_Oh, god, I’m kissing Scully, and Scully’s kissing me back... What the hell do I do now? Except never, ever stop._ Mulder was equal parts ecstatic and terrified. It was an impulse to lean forward and capture Scully’s lips. How could he not with what she said? It was as close to feeling loved as Mulder had felt in years, decades possibly.

If he didn’t kiss her right that second, he would’ve died on the spot.

But the kiss, the kissing, was out of this world. He was transcending, losing feeling in parts of his body and regaining it in tingling waves. The top of his head flew off when their tongues met, and his cock was hard before he gave any thought to it. Scully was in his arms, kissing him back, and he wasn’t dreaming.

What would he do next? Who cares anymore—his only objective was to continue this forever, to never stop kissing her, never let her go, never again. Scully, his Scully. His hands that were at first buried in her hair traveled up and down her body, mirroring her own exploration of him, and he pulled her flush to his body. His neck was screaming, but he didn’t care. He’d never look up again if he was allowed to do this.

Just outside the wind picked up, the trees creaked under the new weight of snow and ice. The weather was the last thing on either of their minds.

He never knew it would be like this, so perfect feeling, so right. He’d imagined, of course he’d imagined, when he allowed himself to hope. He imagined kissing her in the office, on a case, in front of Bill Scully Jr. himself. He imagined long, sensual nights in her apartment; short, hot nights in his own. But never had Mulder realized that kissing Dana Scully would feel quite like this.

Mid-tilt of his head to change position, Scully broke the kiss, tucking her head under his chin to breathe. Her retreating mouth took his breath with it, and although she stayed in his arms he felt like reality was crashing back on him. All the fear, anxiety, worry that he had been feeling and repressing for months slammed against him and then went through his body, propelling him into a paradigm shift of After-Kissing-Scully. He was off balance, torn between absolute joy and crushing fear. How else can you feel when you’ve been given everything you’d ever desired all at once? 

Mulder was still catching his breath when Scully looked up and smiled wide, her eyes dilated wildly and hair mussed. He took in the sight intensely, not daring to blink in case he missed a stray hair or wrinkle of her smile. He wanted to remember this forever, and his smile surely matched hers.

“That was unexpected,” Scully rasped.

A shot of arousal flushed through Mulder’s body. God, Scully’s voice was so low and sexy. He’d always wondered about that, about how she would sound.

“But, uh,” Mulder tried to string a sentence together, his voice unnaturally high and low at the same time. “Not…unwelcome?”

“No, not unwelcome,” she smoothed at his hair, then his shirt, not helping the matter but enjoying the freedom to touch nonetheless. “Very welcome.” She wondered if she should say more. 

“Good.”

Scully’s smile turned into a smirk. “Very good.” She reached up, on her toes, and kissed his chin lightly. He followed with a familiar kiss to her forehead, reveling in the comfort of the action.

They stood for a minute, their hold on each other morphing into a hug. Mulder hadn’t realized how touch-starved he’d been until she was in his arms. His mind flashed to the last time they’d hugged like this, standing in a hospital hallway, Scully slowly dying but trying her damndest to survive. He had felt like dying right along with her.

It was a strange juxtaposition, from dying to fighting to reassurances to _this_.

Scully shifted against him and let out a jaw-cracking yawn against his chest. “Sorry,” she mumbled. “Tired.”

Mulder didn’t have to wonder why and squeezed her a little closer. Honestly, he didn’t know what else to do. What was one supposed to do in this type of situation anyway? He suddenly felt very overwhelmed in an entirely new way, and he panicked.

“I can, uh, make more coffee?”

He went to the kitchen before Scully could answer. He felt like he’d already failed a little in leaving her side, but he couldn’t let himself hold her until she walked away. It would’ve hurt more.

-

For her part, Scully was still standing, swaying actually, where he left her, partly from the best kiss of her life and partly because she barely had the energy to remain upright any longer. She slowly came back to reality and trailed after Mulder, taking the half empty coffee cups with her.

“Mulder, I don’t want more coffee.” She placed the mugs in the sink and turned to him. God, he was tall when she didn’t have shoes on. It was unfair, but she felt a power inside of her that had been released as they kissed, a kind of easy confidence, allowing her to say what she wanted without trepidation. That, or her impulse control was entirely gone with fatigue.

"Tea?"

Scully shook her head cutely, still looking up at him.

He paused, eyes glued to the cabinet top. “What do you want, then?” His tone was hopeful, if a little guarded, and her heart melted a little.

Scully felt all the meanings to that question. What does she want? _God, everything_. But what she needed was a little different. She reached up and tugged on his arm, feeling the immense weight of her own as she did so. Moving was an effort. “Oh, Mulder. I’m exhausted, in every way possible. How about we get some sleep? We can talk more tomorrow.”

Her words were smooth, but a tiny corner of her mind was panicking— _Too much too soon! But play it cool!_ Should they sleep together tonight? She blushed, not like that! God, she felt like a teenager with her first crush. Where was that easy confidence of just a minute ago? Vainly, she tried to bring it back.

She walked away from him to grab her bag and was halfway to the bedrooms before she called out, “You coming?” Her voice didn’t waver and she felt a flicker of pride for it.

Mulder blinked and suddenly he was behind her, following her into the same bedroom he’d stashed his bag in just hours before. She might’ve been imagining it, but she swore she felt the heat of him behind her, like she had a Mulder radar.

“Uh, I can sleep in a different room, if you want,” he said.

Scully put her bag on the bed next to his and faced him, gathering her second or third wind of energy for one more coherent conversation. This was it. What did she want? She wanted a good night’s sleep with Mulder. “Mulder, come here,” she beckoned. He did as she asked, and followed her guiding hands to kiss her softly on the lips before she pulled back. “I’m tired, you’re tired. Let’s sleep. Just sleep. Even if we both want to do more than that.”

“We do?” His eyes were wide and happy, as if he hadn’t even considered that part of things yet.

She patted his cheeks and then took her bag into the master bathroom to change. “I’ll be right back.”  
Mulder wondered faintly, and then with some panic, if he was dreaming. He pinched his arm, but when he didn’t wake up on the couch with a sore neck he decided changing was the priority. He was going to sleep next to Scully tonight.

-

Morning light reflecting off of undisturbed snow was incredibly bright, especially upon just waking up. Mulder stirred awake at the light, feeling content and on edge at the same time. Where was he? _Oh, right_. And then movement next to him. Who was he in bed with? _Oh. Right_.

Scully.

He turned his head and openly stared at the woman next to him. Her eyes were shut, mouth lightly open in deep sleep. A faint snore issued forth from her and Mulder smiled wide. Scully was in bed with him. They’d kissed last night.

Scully soon stirred under his gaze and his chest got tight with panic. How would she react?

She hummed and rubbed her eyes blearily before looking at Mulder. “Morning,” she rasped.

Mulder’s eyes were wide with a mixture of joy and panic. “Morning Scully.”

"Time is it?” Scully yawned out.

“Uhh, it’s,” he looked around for a clock. “It’s a little after nine.”

“Mkay,” Scully mumbled. Her eyes still weren’t open all the way, the opposite of Mulder. He was taking in as much as he could, still afraid it would end before it really even began. 

“Scully—”

“Be right back.”

Scully shuffled out from the covers and slipped into the bathroom. _Be right back?_ That implied, well, it only really implied that she was coming back to bed, with him in it, voluntarily, to sleep in more, right? Mulder had a sudden thought that he was probably overthinking this entire situation, but that never stopped him before. He didn’t move, frozen on his side, waiting for her to come back.

Sure enough, minutes later, Scully slid back under the covers and very, very close to Mulder. So close, in fact, that she decided to breech the final gap and shove her cold toes under his legs for warmth.

“Jeez, Scully, thanks. You’re frozen.”

She smiled sleepily up at him, a hint of mischief in her eyes. Her eyes, her gorgeous blue eyes, now open and staring at him. In the same bed.

Mulder’s brain was slowly frying from inaction, and he was saved from total meltdown when Scully started to speak.

“Mulder, I meant everything I said last night.”

He almost didn’t hear her through his awe of sleepy-Scully, the minty smell of her freshly brushed teeth, her beautiful face clear of makeup. She continued anyway. 

“And while I don’t regret what happened, that we kissed, I was wanting a little, uh. Clarity.”

_Clarity? What’s more clear than kissing her? It’s the most clarity I’ve ever felt. God, I want to kiss her again._ “Clarity?” Mulder managed.

“Yes, I was just wondering your, erm, motives.” Scully started to say, stilted. She moved the covers up over her shoulder like armor and then her words began to rush out. “Because if it was just relief and friendship, and we were both so tired, then I won’t hold it against you or anything, but—”

“Scully I’m in love with you.”

That shut her up. The words also made Mulder pause—did he really just blurt that out? He was torn between absolute terror and complete relief, and decided to own it a split second later. There was comfort, a safe space under the sheets with her. _Now or never_.

“I am. God, Scully, I’ve been in love with you for years. You’re my best friend, my one in five billion. And I’ve wanted to tell you, ever since you were in the hospital. I’ve wanted to tell you forever. And then, the last few weeks.” Mulder paused to suck in a breath, searching Scully’s wide eyes. “It was like we weren’t connecting, and I wanted to tell you so much, to just be there with you because you were alive.” His voice broke slightly on the last syllable, sleep-drunk and high on his confession.

Scully made to speak, and then stopped a second, her brain clicking back over what was just said to her. “You love me?”

“Of course I do, Scully.” Mulder reached for her without thinking and brushed hair away from her cheek. Her skin was warm, glowing. Healthy. He’d never been happier than that moment.

Scully’s free hand reached up to touch his, pressing her cheek against his palm and kissing his wrist. “I wanted to tell you the same, and then I just, I couldn’t, I couldn’t talk to you. I don’t know why, what was blocking me, but…”

Mulder just looked at her, committing this moment to the forefront of his memory forever, feeling in his bones what was coming.

“I love you too, Mulder.”

He sealed her declaration with his lips, sleep-warm and smooth until requesting entry into her mouth. He swiped his tongue just as she did, meeting her in the middle, then sliding closer to her on the bed.

Mulder pulled back, reluctant for a second. “Wait, do I have morning breath?”

“Shut up Mulder.” Scully was enthusiastic, pulling him closer by his shirt and hooking her feet around his legs, entangling them further. Passion was the only good word for it, passionate, warm, wonderful.

“God, Scully,” Mulder exhaled, moving down her jaw with kisses to her neck.

Scully moaned without control, guiding his head close, taking her new liberty to run her fingers through is hair with great joy. Mulder hit a particularly sensitive spot on her neck and she melted, her body tingling with arousal, coiling in her core.


	6. Chapter 6

_Oh, god yes,_ chanted Scully internally. Mulder was a better kisser than she imagined, than she dreamed. Than she even remembered from last night. She was immensely enjoying herself, enjoying him, kissing his ear his head his mouth, trailing her hands across his body. _Finally,_ she thought, _I’m allowed to touch._

Mulder’s hands were enchanting, almost as much as his talented mouth, and her body broke out in warm gooseflesh where he touched her. She felt one hand go down, tighten briefly over her ass (and she moaned, god that felt good) and then up, sliding gently but without hesitation under her sleep shirt.

God, to feel his hand on her bare skin, reaching up the side of her breast and then finally, yes, closing over her, his large hand almost covering it completely as he felt and squeezed and caressed.

This was going fast, she thought, in the brief seconds where she could actually think. And then, oh, not nearly fast enough, and then her top was over her head and the sheets were off of them and Mulder had rolled on top of her and _yes_.  
Fuck those idiots at the bureau, fuck everyone who thought they wouldn’t work, that she’d abandon him, that he’d get them killed. Scully felt their love, their connection, harnessed it in her chest and mentally showed it off to everyone who had gotten in their way.

Then, she refocused on more important tasks and slipped Mulder’s shirt up his chest until he got the hint. Both now just in bottoms, Mulder took a second to look at her in the morning light.

She felt his eyes moving around on her skin, across her chest, her neck, her mouth, then her eyes, making circuits almost too fast to follow, his hands caressing her hips. He leaned forward again, kissing her deeply before starting a path across her jaw, down her neck and, finally, paying attention to her breasts with his glorious mouth.

Scully moaned as his mouth closed around a nipple, sucking and licking, ravenously moving to the other, back and forth, driving her crazy with his attention and obvious enjoyment. He parted from her chest with a shivering lick to the undersides of her breasts and started kissing his way down her stomach.

She suddenly knew exactly where he was going and was equal parts scared and incredibly turned on when his hands hooked in the sides of her pajama pants and pulled down.

He backed up again, to finish taking off her bottoms and looked at her. Internally, her brain yelled that it had been over a day and several hundred miles since she’d last had a shower, and that the lighting in here wasn’t exactly ideal, but then Scully looked up and swelled at the look in Mulder’s eyes. She shoved her doubts away and watched as he made quick work of his pants.

Scully willingly spread her legs for him, too turned on to consider feeling ashamed in any way, and gasped as he made contact, no hesitation, finally, his tongue on her, his lips, sucking licking nipping sliding _god, yes, please more_ she thought or chanted out loud, her hands in his hair.

Suddenly he was over her again, making contact at their cores, kissing her wildly on the mouth. At her nod he took himself in hand and nudged at her opening, sliding in hot and heavy just inches at a time, back and forth until finally, finally, they were joined completely.

“Oh, Scully,” Mulder shivered above her, inside her, and brushed her hair off forehead to kiss it.

“Mulder,” she sighed back. They took a second, just to feel themselves so connected, and then one moved and the other responded and it was nearly perfect.

-

Mulder lay in bed, eyes closed, wondering if he’d just had the most realistic dream of his life, but the evidence was damning, and in his favor.

He felt fucking fantastic. He was sweaty, and tired, and naked under the sheets, and most important of all he had Scully pressed against him.

He’d just made love to her. And Scully loved him too.

Mulder felt like he could cry, like he could die laughing with joy, but most of all he felt content for maybe the first time in his life. A tiny corner of his brain asked _Yeah? And for how long will this last?_ Mulder did his best to mentally smother that little corner of his head with the pillow their heads shared.

As he floated back down from the stratosphere, Mulder tightened his grip around her shoulders.

“Thank you, for coming up here. I can’t imagine what I would’ve done without you.” The sentiment was whispered, murmured against Scully’s hair.

“You probably would’ve sulked,” replied Scully with a smile. “And I would’ve found you up here eventually. It was just good timing on us to get here before the snow.” Scully’s hand traveled across Mulder’s chest lazily, and she felt the rumble of his reply.

“We’re probably trapped, snowed in for a while. I hope the Gunmen have more than just ramen in the cabinets out there. I doubt pizza delivers up here even on a good day.”

“Like you eat more sophisticatedly than that most of the time.”

Mulder shared a laugh, delighted that he was joking in bed with Scully.

“You know, I had to harass the Gunmen to get here,” Scully said.

“Yeah?”

“They wouldn’t let me in at first. I think Langley wanted to kill me for hurting you. And the other two were going to help hide the body.”

Mulder sighed, “I’m sorry they were like that. I overreacted—”

“You really didn’t.” Scully backed off a few inches to look up at him. “What Currer and those other agents said, what they did, it was to provoke this very reaction. You were manipulated into believing them, and they were just lucky to strike at a time where we weren’t being…us. The Gunmen were being good friends to you.”

“I thought about telling you, but then it felt stupid. Like I was being bullied on a playground and I had to tell the teacher.”

“You should always tell the teacher on bullies.” Scully smiled. “When I was at their office, and after they hacked into our emails in record speed—and really we should check into that Mulder—I had them forward your email and their findings to Skinner. Arlene actually sent me the chain yesterday, without the recording, to let me know.”

“Oh, well. That was nice of her.”

“It was.” Scully reached up and brushed across his temple. “We aren’t two against the bureau, no one on our side, Mulder. Even if it feels like that sometimes. There are good people up there too.”

“Skinner. Arlene.” Mulder listed for fun. “Janice.”

“Oh, don’t get started on Janice, Mulder.”

“Janice has a crush on me.”

“Janice could be your mother, or your mother’s mother even.”

“She always prints off my requests first, Scully, even if there’s a line. I’d call that love.”

“Well,” Scully said coyly. “Do I need to be jealous? Get in a cat fight with Janice over you?”

“Oh, Agent Dana Scully, M.D., as much as I would like to see that, there’s really no fight to be had. I’ve been yours since you walked in to my office ‘lo those many years ago.”

Scully smacked him lightly. “That’s _Special_ Agent M.D. to you,” and sealed it with a kiss.

Mulder followed the kiss with interest, and that’s how they spent their morning until Scully’s stomach rumbled loud enough to make them both laugh.

-

“Yes, sir, I understand.” Scully spoke into the phone. “It’s a wonder we have reception up here with the storm. Yes. I’ll tell him. Thank you, sir.”

“Skinner?” asked Mulder. 

Scully turned to him and accepted the plate of food they’d been preparing before her cell rang. “He just updated me on the emails, and his decision to file a formal report and inquiry under a charge of ‘internal conspiracy to disrupt ongoing investigations’ and ‘misuse of FBI technology,’ or something.”

“Can’t he just charge them with being dicks and let it be over?”

“If only,” replied Scully. She ate her scrambled eggs with enthusiasm, needing the protein after the week she’d had. “Both of our leave requests were approved, by the way. Even if we couldn’t leave here if we wanted to right now.” She nodded toward the window. The storm had dumped over a foot of snow on the ground overnight, and the wind was still working hard to solidify the ice around everything in its path. “Are you sure this place is up to it? Not that we have a choice.”

Mulder nodded through a large mouthful of eggs and toast. “I can call if you want, but I’ve heard the guys rant about this place for months. It’s all underground wiring, so no powerlines to deal with, and there’s a generator somewhere in the basement that’s automatic if those fail. That, plus our extensive variety of soups and pastas in the cabinets, makes this place practically cozy in any weather condition.”

They finished their brunch and moved to the living room, naturally gravitating toward the large windows showcasing the beautiful snow and trees.

“So,” Mulder leaned back into the couch, a mug of coffee in hand. “We’re stuck up here, for at least a few days. And we have a week off from work.”

“Yes.” Scully curled up under a blanket next to Mulder, surveying the view.

“What will we do for that long?”

“I can think of a few things we could do…” joked Scully in her low, raspy voice, causing Mulder to spit out coffee back into his mug so he didn’t choke.

“Jesus, Scully.”

“What?”

“That was—” he cut himself off. Of course Scully would joke about these things. She’d done nothing but surprise him in the past—this was just new. “Okay, yes to those things, and please talk like that all the time. But seriously, I don’t think I’ve had this much time on hand to just do… nothing.”

Scully hummed. That was actually a good point. “Well, me either really. Actually, before all the email nonsense started, my plan was to convince you to take a vacation with me.”

“Really? Where would we have gone?”

“I hadn’t thought that far to be honest. Maybe somewhere warm, a beach.”

“An isolated cabin in the woods on a mountain in the winter not an immediate winner in your book?” Mulder asked.

“Oh, I don’t know. The company’s not bad.” She nudged Mulder’s shoulder, moving closer to him. “And the place is beautiful. Maybe, and knock on wood, this will end up actually being a nice trip to the forest for once.”

Mulder chuckled and put his arm around her, wanting her closer always and finally getting to say so.

They drank coffee in silence for a while, each trying to think of things they’d rather be doing and coming up with absolutely nothing. Sitting on the couch, drinking coffee after making love in a mountainside cabin? Not much better than that.

“At the risk of sounding cliché,” Mulder said, “this is probably for the best. We can, uh talk about our feelings. Figure stuff out—trial run a relationship, I guess, before we add all the other stuff back to it.”

“At the cost of being cliché, I agree. I think we had so much happening, especially recently, that adding this in would’ve been wrong.”

“Wrong?”

“Well, not wrong. But there wouldn’t have been enough time to figure it out, like you said. Now I have a whole week to convince you that I love you, and that I want to work with you. Sounds fun to me,” she said practically.

Mulder kissed her head, still warmed and shocked that she was staying, that she loved him, that he’d been tricked by idiots with computers. But he tried to be thankful to them a little, for causing this spiral that led them both here, together. This little retreat was exactly they needed, and he intended to make as much of it as he could for the rest of their lives.


End file.
